The end
by Roxy5
Summary: *CHAPTERS 6 + 7 NOW UP YAY!!!!* Lyra is being persued by an unwanted admirer who will stop at nothing and Will has a feeling something is wrong. dun dun duuuun!!!!! please R/R!
1. CHAPTERS 1, 2, 3

Chapter 1  
  
It was a cool sunny day, close to midsummer. Lyra Belacqua was day dreaming as usual. She was thinking about Iorek and Lee Scorsby and the gyptians. Oh how she wished she could ask the alethiometer about them, she knew she could find the answers if she tried. She had learned fast and had already re-mastered much of the alethiometer but asking about the bear king and others would only dredge up emotions that she was still, even after 13 years, too fragile to deal with. It would just bring back memories best forgotten. Pantalaimon sat on her lap, a comforting warmth.  
  
As she sat in the library of dame Hanna's school the door burst open and the rather flustered looking secretary walked over to Lyra's desk and dumped a huge bunch of flowers in front of her.  
  
"That's the third time this week Lyra"  
  
"Yeah sorry" Lyra muttered as she tried unsuccessfully to shove the flowers in her bag.  
  
"I think he likes you" the secretary laughed as Lyra flushed red with embarrassment. Lyra looked up and studied the woman's face. It seemed kindly enough and she had no one else to talk to. Pan nipped her finger gently as encouragement.  
  
"He's just so persistent" she explained "I've told him that's it no use, I can't love him but he just keeps sending me flowers, meeting me and walking me home, telling me how beautiful he thinks I am. I accept the compliment but .I just wish he'd go away."  
  
The secretary had always seen Lyra as strange. She was a beautiful young woman, golden hair framing her face. And those eyes, such a blue! They looked sad, like an old woman's. It was undoubtable that Lyra had a charm about her but she was always alone, never had male company. That in itself was strange but then there was her daemon. There was a sad kind of air about him too like he had chosen his form in a moment that had become a sad memory for them. And she could have sworn there had been times when she had seen one without the other but that was impossible, wasn't it?  
  
Now this strange young woman wanted to confide in her, who was she to say no? The secretary sat down opposite Lyra, her starling daemon hopping inquisitively towards Pantalaimon.  
  
"If he's the one who drops off the flowers then he's very handsome. Why do you say you can't love him?  
  
Lyra took a deep breath and told her about Will, not everything of course; she told her he had died which might as well be the truth. It felt so good to be finally able to talk about him, to explain how she had felt when they were together and when he had 'died'. It lifted a great weight from her shoulders, to think that someone else knew about him made his memory more real. It made it easier for Lyra to forget he wasn't dead, that their worlds were overlapping and sometimes they were only a heartbeat apart. The secretary listened and her sympathetic daemon nudged Pan affectionately with his head.  
  
Little did Lyra know that as one weight was lifted another was poised to drop onto her.  
  
  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Lyra was at home, in a small house near the school. Once again Richard had walked her home and had asked her to the theatre that night. Despite what Pan had been telling her she had accepted.  
  
"I don't know Pan, he's very sweet and kind to us, I think your judging him too harshly"  
  
"Well I don't like him. Have you noticed his daemon? Lyra, it's a snake. How can you think about trusting someone with a snake daemon?"  
  
Pan was right of course. His daemon was a bright red snake and in Lyras experience that probably meant he had a sly character.  
  
"Maybe Pan but we'll find out tonight wont we? Anyway he is handsome"  
  
"Not as handsome as Will" said Pan echoing Lyras exact thoughts, but then there was nothing she could keep from her daemon.  
  
"Pan, we can't be with Will. Like the secretary said we can't spend our whole lives only loving a goast and that's all Will can ever be to us Pan, a goast. We won't forget him, ever, but we've got to at least try to love someone else. I bet Will's doing the same, remembering us but moving on. He's probably even married by now."  
  
"He'd never do that and you know it" pan whispered so quietly that she could barley hear it. She pretended she didn't and began to search her wardrobe to find something to wear.  
  
  
  
In the Oxford Lyra had briefly visited Will was also searching through his clothes. He had to visit his mother in the home this evening, as always Mary would be coming with him. She was the only person who he could talk to about every thing that had happened and she had soon become his most trusted friend.  
  
Together they had sorted out all the problems with the police. As it turned out Will hadn't committed murder, as it was an act of self-defence. Mary had to do some community service for breaking the computer but that was all and they had found a nice home for his mother. He hated leaving her there but it was best for her, she was treated well and was getting better every day.  
  
He took off his smart work clothes and pulled on some jeans and a casual jumper. "Ready to go?" Mary said as he walked down the stairs.  
  
"Yeah come on"  
  
They left the house and got into Will's car.  
  
"It's two weeks till midsummer" Mary reminded him painfully "are you still going to go?"  
  
"Of course" he said. He had never got over Lyra and how could he? She had been so brave and clever and kind and loving. He wondered what she looked like now, probably as beautiful as her mother but with her fathers fiery temperament.  
  
Will had been on dates, had girlfriends. He had even thought he had even thought he was in love once but then he had realised every time he thought of her he was really thinking of Lyra. Every time they kissed he was comparing her to Lyra. It was no good. They travelled in silence the rest of the way to the home.  
  
When they got there they were ushered into his mothers bedroom. She sat in bed in her night-gown looking out the window.  
  
"Hello mum" he said stepping into the room. His mother looked round absent mindedly but a smile spread across her face when she saw her son. He hugged her tightly.  
  
Will and Mary sat down and then they all talked about the usual things, the weather, what had been on T.V. Some times his mother acted totally normally joining in with the conversation and then other times she seemed distracted or even distressed. But Will had grown up looking after her and knew how to calm her down. Mary looked on in admiration at the young man who had been through so much so young. No wonder Lyra loved him and she had no doubt she still did.  
  
When Mary went out for coffee something strange happened. Will's mother grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to her.  
  
"I had a dream last night" she whispered. She was so close that her breath tickled his ear.  
  
" The girl you're going to meet in a fortnight, she's going to be in danger. It will be because of you and you have to make it right, you have to help her."  
  
She let go of his arm and Will looked into her eyes. They were pleading with him to do as she said.  
  
She lay down "I need to sleep" was all she said before she rolled over to face the wall. Will found Mary to tell her they were leaving but he didn't tell her what his mother had said.  
  
Once he had dropped Mary off and got home he ran straight back to his wardrobe and pulled out an old bag of his mothers. Inside the bag was a leather sheath and inside the sheath were the shards of the subtle knife.  
  
He sat on his bed and thought about it. If it had been fixed once it could be fixed again. If Lyra was in danger, as his mother said he would have to help her and to do that he would need the knife.  
  
But his mother was still sick, she probably made it up, it was just a coincidence the date she picked was midsummer.  
  
Would it hurt to have it fixed? Then it would be ready should he need it. What had Iorek Brynison said? The knife had its own intentions, and what if it fell into the wrong hands? After all the people who had been searching for his fathers letters hadn't just disappeared.  
  
Eventually he decided. He would take the knife to a few places see if anyone could fix it first. He lay the knife on his bedside table and slowly fell asleep only to dream of Lyra captured by a new evil.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Lyra wasn't in danger though. She had a wonderful night; the last time she had visited the theatre had been 13 years ago, when she was staying with Mrs Coulter. At least the company hadn't been as bad as she had expected, Pan had been wrong about Richard. He was very kind and generous and funny, he had kept Lyra amused throughout the very dull play. So when he had invited her into his house for some coffee she had accepted. The house was huge and so grand. Every wall was covered in old paintings and antique vases stood in almost every corner. Lyra walked round the rooms in wonder, looking at the souvenirs of Richards's travels. Skraling arrows, walrus tusks, what looked like African spears and things Lyra had never seen before or since.  
  
Richard walked into the room carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. He smiled at Lyra. It was a very handsome smile, showing his perfect white teeth. He was older than she was by about ten years although his face didn't show it.  
  
"I see your admiring my collection," he said handing Lyra the coffee.  
  
"Yes. So you've travelled all over this world?"  
  
"I've been as far north as Nova Zembla and down to the furthest tip of Africa. Nothing in this country suprizes me anymore! I've been to Asia as well, and parts of High Brazil, fascinating place. So have you been anywhere..interesting?"  
  
Lyra was struck by the way he asked the question, it was as if he knew where she had been, past the northern lights. But that would be impossible, she had told no one about that. She moved away from him and sat down.  
  
"I've not really travelled very much, but when I was younger I went north." She stopped hoping that he wouldn't ask questions, there was something about his expression that made her think bizarrely of her mother.  
  
"Oh really? How young? Where did you go?"  
  
Lyra felt angry all of a sudden, she felt like she was being interrogated but pan was on her lap nudging her hand and urging her to be polite but not to give anything away. "I was twelve. I went to Trollesund in Lapland and then on to Svalbard." She smiled at him.  
  
He looked supprized but shrugged and said "Svalbard, with the bears! Very..unusual!" Stupid! Lyra thought to herself. She'd forgotten about that, going to Svalbard seemed normal to her after everywhere she'd been.  
  
Richard walked to the other end of the room, then turned to face Lyra again with an n unnerving smile on his face.  
  
" You see Lyra." He said, " I don't think you've been totally truthful with me. Perhaps I should tell you a story." He remained standing but lent against the wall, always keeping his eyes on her. She stared right back.  
  
"I've been to the north many times. The second time I went I was 22, you were only 12. My friends and me were planing a trip to the frozen sea and Svalbard. But something happened that stopped all our plans, which trapped us in the north for longer than we expected. Do you have any idea what that was Lyra?  
  
She just stared at him. After a few seconds pause he continued. "One night we were watching the most wonderful display of the northern lights I have ever see. One minute light was flickering on and off, swirling across the sky then all of a sudden daylight. Someone had ripped a massive hole in the sky. Then came the fog. Days and days of the thickest fog. We couldn't move anywhere; it was far too dangerous. We might have fallen down unseen cliffs or into the freezing sea. But you know all this Lyra because you were there, weren't you?  
  
'Anyway a few days later stories came sweeping down from the north. A barman who had heard it from a man who had heard it from a witch who had heard it from a bear told us the story. It went something like this.  
  
'Someone had opened a way into another world, and that much was evident just by looking in the sky. But the rest of the tale was more interesting to me. It was about a girl with an unknown mission to carry out. A girl who brought either freedom and hope or destruction and despair, depending who told the tale. A girl who controlled the bears and walked into that new world.  
  
'The story intrigued me although I soon forgot the name of the girl, but what interested me the most was that everyone was scared of her. Some people were sure she was evil and would destroy us all, that she had opened the sky and brought the fog on us. Others just seemed uncertain, she might just be a child or she might be a devil or an angel. One thing was certain, the church thought she was important. Every port was full of troops ready to head into the new world, we couldn't get a ship out from anywhere! Then the snow started melting; we left as soon as we could after that.  
  
'I'm telling you this story Lyra but you know a whole lot more about it than me don't you? You were that little girl weren't you?"  
  
Lyra felt stunned. She wasn't sure if it was safe to tell him the truth. What did he want from her? If he was already so sure it was her why was he asking? So many thoughts flashed through her mind. What if the church was still after her and he was one of them? Or maybe wanted to open another doorway into another world and let all the dust out. Or maybe he was genuinely interested. How could she guess?  
  
She stared at him, not quite being able to work out what to say. He looked at her and smiled broadly. "I just wanted to make sure it was you and to let you know I know. Lyra I know more about you than most people and you can trust me, I would never let you down." He knelt in front of her and looked kindly into her eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry" he continued "I probably shocked you just then, by suddenly telling you that story but I just want you to know there is nothing you have to hide from me. So was it you? After I've said all this I'd fell like a fool if it wasn't!"  
  
Despite all Pan was telling her she nodded her head, after all what harm could it do?  
  
"I knew it! one of my friends visited me recently" he began to explain "and reminded my of that story and reminded me of you name, Lyra Silvertoung. I was a journalist, at least until recently, and I decided to find you so I could write an article about you. You took a lot of finding I can tell you! But when I did find you I fell for you straight away, who wouldn't?" he smiled at her again "don't worry I wont write about you now. But tell me where did you go in that world?"  
  
he might be sweet and kind but there were something's Lyra had vowed never to speak about. "I might tell you sometime" was all she could manage. Tonight had been too strange by far.  
  
But it was about to get worse.  
  
"Lyra, there's something I've been meaning to ask you" said Richard taking her hands.  
  
All of a sudden Lyra saw clearly what he was going to ask her. She didn't know what had happened but she could see right through him to his very intentions and she knew straight away that she didn't want it to happen. Desperate to stop it she stood up and moved towards one of the paintings on the wall.  
  
"Oh" she said tilting her head from side to side as if she was really interested in the painting "this is really good! Who's the artist because I've never seen.."  
  
"Lyra sit down," Richard said in a slightly stressed tone. She just kept looking at the picture pretending she hadn't heard him. In the reflection of the glass she could see him rubbing his hands through his hair still kneeling if front of the sofa where she had been sitting.  
  
"LYRA!!!" he shouted. She spun round suddenly aware of the power he conveyed when he was angry. It was almost like facing her father but it soon passed. "just..just sit down" he finished, still sounding annoyed. She did dare disobey him. All of a sudden she felt he was as dangerous as those people at Bolvangar, as any of the Gobblers. She wasn't sure if she could tell what he would do next. The feeling had crept up so suddenly that she didn't know what to do, she'd felt safe a minute ago. Oh she wished she'd listened to Pan, he'd been right about Richard all along. She just sat up straight and let him take hold of her hands again.  
  
"I love you more than anything" he started, then stopped and laughed gently "that sounded better on paper. Oh hell I'm just going to say it" he said more to himself than to her.  
  
"Lyra" he began after a pause "will you marry me?"  
  
And the worst thing was she actually thought about it. She thought about the fun she had earlier that night at the theatre, she thought about all the travelling he had done, she thought about spending the rest of her life alone as she probably would if she didn't take this offer and she thought about the side of him she had just seen. What would he do if she refused?  
  
Then she thought about the moment she looked into Will's eyes and realised he felt the same, about slowly watching his face disappear as he closed the way behind him, about the little time they had spent together. The feelings, the emotions were still fresh in her mind. She could still hear the bird song from that strange Oxford and she could still smell him. She could still picture his face as clearly as a photo but she couldn't remember the face of the man in front of her.  
  
She was living in the past but as she looked at her Pantalaimon, who had chosen his shape right under Will's hand, she realised something. That was where she wanted to be. Then the decision was simple.  
  
"I cant" she whispered.  
  
"What" he looked puzzled and hurt.  
  
"I can't marry you"  
  
Richard dropped his head. Lyra stood up but he still had hold of her hands. "Perhaps I should go," she said trying to get free but he still held on.  
  
He looked up frowning. She couldn't keep eye contact, she felt guilty but she wanted so much more than he could give her, she wanted Will.  
  
After a while he began to laugh. "I see" he said " your joking, right?"  
  
"No" Lyra replied "I'm not, I can't marry you"  
  
"Yes" he was standing up now, looking down on her. "yes you can. Look, I know your not stupid stop acting like you are. Look around you" he gestured to the room "this is what I can offer you. To be honest I don't care if you love me because you can love my money, love the travel and tolerate me. That's good enough for me to put up with, I'd put up with anything to be with you." He took hold of her arms and shook her. "You're not going to give up the life style I can give you because of some fantasy about true love!"  
  
"I never said I had a fantasy about true love" was all she could find to say; did he know about Will as well as everything else?  
  
"no but every woman does. I'm telling you this is as true as it gets!" he shook her again. He looked ferocious.  
  
"Maybe" she said, "I have to go Richard, let me go."  
  
"Not until you consent to be my wife!" he spoke through gritted teeth tightening his grip on her all the time, spit flying in her face. She was crying now, she could feel the hot tears rolling down her cheeks.  
  
"I can't Richard, it's impossible, I just can't"  
  
"Wrong answer!" he shouted, loosing any grip he had left on himself, he flung Lyra onto the sofa never letting go of her arms. Pan was on him like a shot, scratching, biting, and doing all he could until he was flung to the floor. He cowered in the corner, as scared as Lyra of this monster.  
  
"I am more powerful than you could imagine" he sneered at her, his face so close she could feel his hot breath. "And I will stop at nothing to make you mine, be assured of that, no matter how difficult you make it."  
  
Lyra was pined down by his hands and his body with no chance of escape, oh what would happen to her?  
  
Then something sickening happened. Lyra felt the dry roughness of scales against her skin. Something, his daemon, was slithering up her leg, that retched snake! She felt its tongue flick out across her knee.  
  
But this wasn't Lyra Silvertongue. Will's Lyra wouldn't just sit back and let this happen, shed fight or trick him. Well there was no chance to fight him off but perhaps if she..  
  
Pantalaimon sensed the plan she was forming and ran silently to the door. Hoping that it would work Lyra gently planted a kiss on Richards's forehead, startled he loosened his grip on one of her arms, letting her move it down towards her knee.  
  
"I'm sorry, I don't deserve you, I've been so stupid and horrible to you tonight, I just wish there was something I could do" she reached down and caressed the snake daemon sending a shiver down Richards back. He loosened his grip slightly on he other arm and smiled at her. She smiled back and rested her hand on his cheek. Now she thought, while he doesn't expect it.  
  
Suddenly she tightened her grip on the daemon and flung it at the nearest wall. Richard fell to the floor stunned and Lyra ran to the door.  
  
But he was quicker and had her ankle. In a flash he was up with his hand to her throat. He rammed her into the wall and she cried out in pain, screwing up her eyes with it.  
  
When she opened them again he had a knife in his other hand, from the display on the wall. "that was not a good move Lyra" he said placing the knife at her throat. "I could kill you right now" she felt the cold metal press against her skin, with her hand she felt along the wall.  
  
"you are nothing, who would even notice if you died? let alone actually care!" he pressed the knife deeper and Lyra winced with pain. Her hand found the neck of one of the heavy vases.  
  
"Perhaps I would kill you" he said removing the knife and holding it in front of his face, turning it as if fascinated by the way it caught the light. "if I didn't feel so much for you. Love really is a weakness." He laughed and placed the knife on her right cheek. Then his face became sullen and cloudy as he slashed the knife down and across her cheek.  
  
Lyra screamed with pain but she was equal to it. with all the strength she could muster she swung the vase up into the back of his head. He slid slowly to the floor, a pool of blood all ready collecting.  
  
Then Lyra ran not caring if he was alive or dead.  
  
In a totally different universe Will Parry woke up in a cold sweat, clutching his cheek which hurt for no apparent reason. 


	2. CHAPTERS 4, 5

Chapter four  
  
Lyra woke up feeling stiff and cold. She moved her arms slowly to get the feeling back. She'd spent the night sleeping sporadically behind a pile of old crates down by the canal, sheltered from the wind and any eyes that might be watching out for her.  
  
Once the cold began to wear off and the golden morning sun invited her to leave her hiding place, she decided to get some breakfast. She picked up the tattered carpetbag that she'd thrown a few things in the night before and set off.  
  
When she had left Richards's house not only had she seen his true character but also his words had been ringing in her head. "I'll stop at nothing." and now she knew he wouldn't. Oxford wasn't safe anymore if she wanted to stay single, or alive so she had decided to lay low until she had a plan. Maybe she could go to Svalbard or to Serafinas witch clan, but then the old problem remained, she was human and always would be.  
  
So the night before she had gone home to get supplies. She'd cleaned and dressed her cheek, painful although not too deep. She'd grabbed some money for food and soap and things. Maybe she could buy zeppelin tickets to London or Bristol.  
  
She had also grabbed some fresh clothes and, of course, the Alethiometer and her study books in which she had the harder of the meanings written down.  
  
And one other thing was in that bag, nestling in one corner, wrapped carefully in tissue paper, a small red flower from the crown of Serafina Pekkala. She had promised Lyra that they would always be sisters and that using the flower, Lyra could call her whenever she needed help. The flower was as fresh as the day she'd been given it, all those years ago. Lyra had thought about calling Serafina the night before but after all what could the witch have done?  
  
The gash on her cheek began to sting painfully again as the streets began to fill with people and market stalls. "Lyra, you better cover your cheek or people will stare." Pan whispered from her shoulder. He was right. She pulled a light, summery silk scarf from her bag and wrapped it round her neck, pulling it up to cover her cheek.  
  
Soon she came across a small quiet looking café. She brought a cup of coffee and a stale looking cake, which was all they had. She sat in the back corner and tried to look as uninteresting as possible, after all that had worked in Bolvangar and it was what Will had done all his life.  
  
"What are we going to do now?" whispered Pan.  
  
" I don't know, I guess we'll have to find some where to stay. We can't go home, that's the first place he'll look"  
  
"You should have listened to me, I knew he wasn't trust worthy."  
  
" I know pan. I'm sorry. I messed up. Now we won't be able to go to Dame Hannah's collage anymore, we've got no home and what will we do when our money runs out? We can't go to the master for more; it's far too dangerous. We'll stave Pan." She rested her head in her hands and felt the hot prick of tears in her eyes. Stop crying, she told herself furiously, you'll be noticed for sure.  
  
She felt the soft warmth off fur wipe her tears away as Pan pressed his head against hers.  
  
"No we won't Lyra, we'll never let that happen." He whispered to her "we'll find somewhere safe to stay. Don't worry. Your not just anyone, your Lyra Silvertongue named by the great king Iorek himself."  
  
The very thought that had made her fight off Richard the night before had no effect on her now.  
  
"I'm not sure anymore pan" she sighed.  
  
"Of course you are," he said affectingly licking her face.  
  
Maybe, she thought, maybe.  
  
  
  
  
  
Will stood outside a cramped looking shop. The sign outside said, "Antiques - Repaired and sold". Well what Will wanted fixed was definitely an antique so here was as good a place as any to start looking for someone who could fix the knife.  
  
As he went in a little bell rang to announce his entrance. He looked around. Every wall of the shop was covered with old books, bedpans, copper kettles, Victorian dolls and puppets. Rusty buckets and boat ores hung from the ceiling. A winding path led through old dressers and cupboards stopping in front of a desk, behind the desk sat a middle-aged woman. Her grey hair was pulled back into a tight bun which stretched her face slightly, giving her a startled look. A pair of reading glasses hung round her neck on a chain. She looked up as Will approached.  
  
"Can I help you, dear."  
  
"Yes, I hope so" will said, taking the broken knife from his bag and arranging the pieces on the desk. The woman looked at them, then up at Will before carefully picking up a piece for closer inspection. "Well" she said, replacing the piece she had picked up. "I'm no expert on knives, I mostly restore furniture" Wills heart sank a little but the woman continued.  
  
"It's been fixed before"  
  
"Most likely" he replied, not wanting to give too much away "It's very old."  
  
"Just how old exactly" she enquired  
  
"Three hundred years, it's a family heir loom." He hoped this would satisfy her.  
  
"Well then, your in luck, I might be able to help you after all" Will felt a little jolt in his chest as his hope rose again, like a lift moving inside him.  
  
"I have a friend" she continued " who specialises in restoring and reproducing metal work of the middle ages onwards, he may be able to help you."  
  
She scribbled an address down and handed it to Will.  
  
"Thank you, thank you so much!" He said ecstatically as he gathered up the shards of the knife.  
  
He left the shop clutching the piece of paper.  
  
  
  
  
  
Lyra walked through the crowded streets of oxford, keeping her head down. Pan was siting on her shoulder keeping watch. She was heading for the zeppelin ticket office.  
  
It was a fairly small and discreet looking building. As she stepped indoors Lyra got the distinct feeling someone was watching her from the street but when she turned around she saw nothing but the busy street, no faces turned to her.  
  
She walked up to the desk and asked the price of tickets to London. What the man told her was shockingly expensive, she had nowhere near enough money.  
  
"All the prices have gone up Miss." the man told her " you won't find a ticket to anywhere with that money"  
  
Oh no, thought Lyra, this cannot be happening. She had to get out of oxford, she just had to. She began to search her bag frantically for more money, she was sure she had enough this morning. But she found none.  
  
She felt a lump of despair rising in her chest she knelt on the floor still desperately searching her bag as the tears began to roll down her face. I might as well give up now, she thought. Pan was running around the room, jumping to Lyras shoulder and then to the floor, as desperate as she was. So intent on her search, Lyra didn't feel the scarf fall, exposing her injured cheek.  
  
Suddenly there were hands on her shoulders. She looked up to see the ticket man kneeling in front of her.  
  
"Are you alright miss?" he asked, looking into her eyes.  
  
"Yes, of course I am" she said mustering a smile. He could see it was a blatant lie, the trail of her tears still shone on her face.  
  
"I think you better come into the office miss, I'll make you a nice cup of tea."  
  
"No really I'm fine" she insisted "I better be going" in truth she didn't know were to go next. She half stood up when she realised his hand were still on her shoulders.  
  
"You don't look fine" was all he said. She looked at his face full of concern.  
  
"Will you promise not to tell anyone I was here, you promise not to call the police?"  
  
He looked at her tear stained face, her eyes full of desperation.  
  
"Not if you don't want me to" he replied. She nodded and he helped her up ushering her into the office.  
  
  
  
Ten minutes later she was siting in the cosy office with a cup of tea in front of her. The man had gone off somewhere, leaving Pan and Lyra alone.  
  
"Do you think I should have said yes, Pan, and married him?"  
  
"No, we'd be better of for a while if you had, but we'd have only run away later on."  
  
"But we might have learned to love him and like he said we could love the travelling and the other things if not him."  
  
" We could never learn to love not after.." Lyra knew instinctively what he meant, not after Will. She sighed, Pan was right; she'd done the only thing she could do. She might have been able to live with Richard but she wouldn't have been able to live with herself for marrying him.  
  
"Besides look what he's done to you, he wasn't exactly a perfect gentleman last night"  
  
"Your right as always" she laughed "you know, for a moment there I thought I'd done the wrong thing but then you reminded me about."  
  
"Hush!" Pan whispered harshly. Lyra could hear voices outside the door.  
  
".And she's got a terrible cut on her cheek, she was a distraught out front, desperate to get away" for a moment Lyra thought her judgement had failed her again and that the ticket man had called the police.  
  
"And the police?" a second, deeper, voice said.  
  
"Didn't want me to call. She'd only go into the office if I promised not to". Lyra started to breathe again; he'd kept his word.  
  
"Do'ya know what?" said the ticket man "I reckon she one of those Gyptians, I've heard their just down the river." Lyras heart nearly stopped when she heard this. She listened more intently. "She's well dressed for a Gyptian but I'll bet they could easily steal clothes."  
  
"Perhaps" said the second, more superior sounding voice.  
  
"I've heard all sort of story's about 'em, if I was her I'd want to run away!"  
  
The door opened startling Lyra. An older man entered the room followed by the ticket man. The older man sat in the chair opposite her.  
  
"That's a nasty cut you've got there young lady" he said smiling at her as if she was crazy, well she had acted strangely before.  
  
"Yeah" she said, dismissive. "Where are the Gyptians." The question seemed to shock the men. "Sorry, It's just I heard you talking about them a second ago and I think they might be able to help me."  
  
"Well their just down the river, at Abingdon." Said the ticket man, sounding puzzled. Lyra looked at pan the same thought passing through their minds. She leapt up, grabbed her bag and ran out of the room.  
  
"Where are you going?" the older man called.  
  
"Home" she replied as she left the building. At last something was going right.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter five.  
  
  
  
It was getting dark now and Lyra had been walking all day. Pan was wrapped around her neck to keep her warm and because he shared her sheer exhaustion. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and her feet were covered with blisters, her shoes weren't the practical kind. It couldn't be far to Abingdon now. She just carried on walking; the only thing that kept her going was the thought of safety, food and the warmth of Ma Costa's arms.  
  
Eventually after another hour of stumbling along in the increasing dark Lyra caught her first glimpse of the Gyptians narrow boats. They were nestled in a group just down the canal and she could see the lanterns twinkling in the gloom. She could almost see the warmth inside glowing like the hottest embers of a fire and her heart welled up with so much joy, she really did feel like she was going home.  
  
With all the remaining strength she had Lyra began to run towards the boats. What I sight I must be she thought as she reached the first boat. She climbed aboard, not seeing any other way to knock on the door, and could hear laughter and talking from inside. She knocked and heard a voice cry above the others.  
  
"I'll get it!"  
  
A moment later the door opened and a tall, strong looking figure appeared, a shadow fell across his face obscuring it to Lyras view.  
  
All he could see of this stranger was that it was slight and feminine, not like any of the Gyptian women. His shadow shrouded her face but he could see her pale eyes glinting in the moonlight.  
  
They both felt there was something strangely familiar about the other.  
  
"What do you want?" asked the Gyptian. His voice was not unkind but Lyra felt there was an edge to it.  
  
"I'm looking for Ma Costa" Lyra replied "could you show me to her?"  
  
"She's inside" he said, inclining his head towards the warm room "what do you want from her?"  
  
" Food, a bed, any help she can give"  
  
"What makes you think she'll help you?" the faceless voice asked.  
  
"She always has" was all Lyra could think of to say.  
  
"Who are you?" curiosity had finally overcome the Gyptian. This girl was so familiar yet so strange at the same time. He stepped aside and the light from inside spread over both their faces, as did the same expression of recognition.  
  
The man stood in front of Lyra was so very different from when she had last seen him, he was taller for a start but she could tell it was him.  
  
"Billy?" she whispered " is that really Billy Costa?"  
  
"It can't be" he replied in disbelief and then tentatively added "Lyra?"  
  
"Yes It's me!" she laughed "oh, Billy it been so long since I last saw you. Where were you all these years? I came down to the canal for the horse fair but it wasn't there."  
  
"No they banned it and now their trying to take our fens" he said, Lyra gasped.  
  
"You were lucky to catch us" he added "we were going to leave to a roping about it tomorrow. But that's not important right now, come in and warm up and have something to eat. You must be starving."  
  
He led her into the cramped room. Around a long table sat about ten Gyptians. Most of them Lyra didn't recognise but there was an older looking Tony Costa with grey streaks in his hair. At the head of the table sat Ma Costa. To Lyra she looked no different than she had thirteen years ago.  
  
Ma Costa looked up as the strange woman entered the room and found that she wasn't strange at all. She saw the slight woman with fierce and determined blue eyes. Her golden blond hair was dishevelled from her day's walk and an exhausted pine marten stared at Ma Costa from round the woman's neck.  
  
Without saying a word Ma Costa stood up and walked over. Not for the first time and as if nothing had happened since Lyra last saw her, Ma Costa hugged her with her immense, strong arms. Lyra felt safe again.  
  
In the café where Lyra had eaten breakfast that morning the owner was getting ready to close up. He was wiping the tabletops when he heard the door open behind him. He turned round to face the intruders.  
  
"Can't you read? The café is shu.." He was cut off by a growl from a huge wolf daemon stood just a meter from him.  
  
A young man stood in front of him flanked by the wolf daemons and their equally fierce looking humans. The young mans snake daemon was curled round her humans wrist. His head was heavily bandaged.  
  
"I'm looking for a woman, exceptionally pretty equally stubborn" he laughed warmly, though his face showed signs of other, more volatile emotions. "I thought perhaps you might have seen her?" he continued.  
  
"Well, er, I don't like to pry into other peoples business, so maybe you should try somewhere else" the owner said in a shaken voice.  
  
The wolf daemons growled and showed their yellow drool covered fangs, prowling round the café owner. He quickly changed his mind.  
  
"Let me think" he said, nervously scratching his head. "There was one young lady, sat in the corner. Very quiet, she was, had a stoat daemon or something like that and blue eyes, I remember her eyes" he nodded repeatedly as if to add truth to his story.  
  
"Which way did she go?" asked the young man.  
  
The café owner thought for a moment then pointed to the left. The young man nodded to him and left followed by the soldiers and their wolf daemons, leaving the café owner shaking and bewildered.  
  
  
  
____________________________ :p______________________________________  
  
So what did you think? Should I write more or just give up now? (Hehehe, not really I'm gonna keep writing what ever you say!!!!! Mwahhahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!) 


	3. chapters 6, 7

Hey! I finally updated!!!! It's only a little bit but ya know! Sorry it took so long but skool work, exams and other bad bad things got in the way! Anyways enjoy....  
  
Chapter six.  
  
It was a dark cloudy day despite being June and Will was stood in an exposed field. The man he had arranged to meet was called Terry Brown. He was tall and fairly plain except for a very ragged bushy beard. Combined with wellington boots, an old paint splattered jumper and jeans he had the look Will expected of most historical fanatics, the type you always saw on t.v. At this moment in time he was carefully inspecting the shards of the knife. A looked of disturbed wonder was slowly spreading across his face, much like the look Will would have seen on Iorek's face if he had been able to read any expression at all.  
  
"This knife" exclaimed Terry "is sharper than anything I've seen before! And then the other edge is indescribable, you can't see the end its so sharp!" he turned the tip round in his wok roughened fingers mindful of the edges. "This should be in a museum! How old did you say it was?"  
  
"Three hundred years" said Will. He wished he could tell this man all he knew about the knife, after all this was the man who could fix it, who could give Will the power to find Lyra again. Only if he should need to, of course.  
  
But it would be far too dangerous, Terry Brown might not be trust worthy. Anyway he'd probably put Will down as a lunatic and then he'd never fix the knife. Plus, given Will's mothers condition he doubted anyone would think twice before locking him away.  
  
So the knifes secrets had better be left secret, thought Will.  
  
"Three hundred years?!!?" the look of amazement on Terry's face was clear. "I've never seen anything like it from that time, it was all very rudimentary back then, but this! They must have found a new way of heating the metal because well.it's..just wonderful!" words seemed to be failing this man and Will knew why.  
  
The knife had a sort of intoxicating power over people and Will remembered how wonderful it had felt to feel its weight in his hand once more after Iorek had fixed it. And it did look beautiful today, its soft, subtle colours showing themselves despite the heavy clouds. Will wished Terry had been able to see the knife before it had been broken at all, then he would have understood it's true beauty.  
  
"Then they must have spent days on the edge" continued Terry in amazement. "It's so.. I don't know.subtle. Is that the right word? Anyway this really should be on display, in a museum" he repeated.  
  
"That's what I was thinking" lied Will. "But I really think it should be fixed, don't you? Could you do that, could you fix it?" Wills heart was in his lurching uncontrollably as the man replied.  
  
"Fix it?" Terry looked at the fragments much closer. "It's been fixed before hasn't it"  
  
"Yes" replied Will " quite recently I think, but I couldn't be sure."  
  
"The skill required is immense with such fine work, and it's held." Terry held up a piece for Will to inspect. "The second time this knife broke was in a different place to the forging marks. That's incredible, and where it has been reforged you can hardly seen the join at the edge!" Terry shook his head in disbelief "I doubt many people have that kind of skill"  
  
"No, not many people" replied Will with just the slightest emphasis on the word people. "But can you fix it, that's the question"  
  
"I'm not sure. I mean I could melt it down and make a totally new blade."  
  
"No you mustn't do that!" said Will "you'd never get the edge back. If its going to be mended then it has to be done like before, piece by piece. Now, can you do that?"  
  
Terry shook his head "I don't know, I just don't know. But I never say no to a challenge, I can't promise anything but I'll try." Terry handed the pieces back to Will before adding, "come here tomorrow and I'll have the forge built, then we'll see what happens"  
  
Will thanked the man then left to get some sleep, after all he knew how tiring fixing the knife would be.  
Chapter 7  
  
Will returned the next day as requested. A forge much like the one Iorek had set up stood in the middle of the field but somehow it seemed to lack some of the power that Will expected. He might not be an armoured bear, thought Will but he'll have to do.  
  
As he approached the burning forge Will remembered Ioreks words. The knife has intentions too. What were its intentions now? He felt its danger like it was being given off as smoke. It lay in his pocket like a coiled viper ready to strike, what damage could it do? He stopped halfway to the forge questioning if what he was doing was right. If this would in anyway endanger what he and Lyra had achieved, if it would threaten the dust would it be worth it? The knife did have its own intentions, Will was sure of that, the Spectres for one. They had been warned not to look for each other but how could he not when he woke up every night with the sound of her screams resounding in his ears. If she was in danger he had to help her or be tormented by his failure for the rest of his life. Besides he would only use it if he was absolutely sure she needed help. With this thought in his head he took a deep breath and strode towards the forge, chin jutting forwards as he walked.  
  
But deep down he knew what would happen if the knife could be fixed, if he had the power to travel the worlds again. He would use it no matter if Lyra needed his help or not, he would search for her however long it took even if that meant to his death. 


End file.
